


Float On - Phan

by Art3misPlayerOne



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2017 Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cute Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Dan Howell Angst, Dan Howell/Phil Lester Comfort, Depressed Dan Howell, Domestic Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Hurt Dan Howell, Love, M/M, POV Dan Howell, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, Romantic Fluff, Sad Dan Howell, Short Story, Slow Burn Dan Howell/Phil Lester, YouTube, YouTuber Phil Lester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art3misPlayerOne/pseuds/Art3misPlayerOne
Summary: One boy, an all-night coffee shop, a curious ability, and a stranger.Dan is an average boy with a job and a penchant for drawing anime until one day he wakes up and finds that everything has gone incredibly wrong. All around him, people suddenly have words floating above their heads. Being able to see the messages make him feel like he's going mad, but trying to find out their meaning sinks him into a deep unyielding depression.Determined to not live a life of isolation despite the floating words, he starts venturing out at night to the 24-hour coffee shop across the street.  Here, he runs into a stranger who just may hold the key to getting his life back.





	1. Chapter 1

It has been a bad week. Well, every week is bad if you’re me, but this one was worse than usual. Most of the time I don’t mind sitting by myself in the dark all day long and honestly, it's no big deal once you get used to it, especially when you don’t have much of a choice. I have my computer and my TV, which is the total of my social interaction on any given day. I’m aware of how horrible that sounds to most people, but for me, it’s my only connection with the outside world and it keeps me sane. Most of the time.

I have a small one bedroom apartment on the second floor, which is plenty big since it’s just me. It’s not an excellent place for entertaining people or having company, but I’ve never had any visitors and that probably isn’t going to change anytime soon. The best part of the apartment is the small balcony that overlooks the London street and surrounding apartments, restaurants, and shops. It’s just big enough to fit a chair and a small table and since I can realistically only go outside at night anyway, it suits me just fine. When I still had a proper job, I could afford better, but not so much now that I’m funded by blogging, YouTube, and Patreon.

Standing by the window, I peek out through the shut blinds, squinting at the bright afternoon sunshine. I can hear voices and cars from below, but I don’t dare look down at them. Glancing at the building across the street, I notice with surprise that all of the blinds on the second-floor windows are also shut, which is a rarity, so I inch mine open and let the last gasp of the bright evening light into the living room. The buildings aren’t that far away and the last thing I want is to be able to see my neighbors roaming around their apartments. With the warmth streaming in through the window, I plop down on the couch with my laptop and start browsing, looking for some inspiration.

There’s a sharp knock at the door but I continue typing at my laptop and don’t acknowledge it. Out of habit, I look at the time and wait a full 5 minutes before standing up and walking over to the door, making sure to look out of the peep hole to double check that no one is still standing in the hallway. I open the door and take a step out, gathering up the three large packages stacked on my doormat.

“Excuse me!” a voice calls out from down the hall. I glance up and see the delivery driver trotting my way carrying another box. “Daniel Howell?”

With my heart pounding, I quickly look away and try to get back inside, but I stumble and drop one of my boxes. I toss the other two in the door and scramble to try to grab the other one, but it’s too late.

“Are you Daniel Howell?” he asks again cheerfully, now standing only a few feet away from me.

“Um, yes,” I mumble, scooting the package still sitting on the floor into my apartment with my foot.

“I forgot one in the truck,” he says, handing me the fourth box.

“T-thank you,” I stutter as I reach out with one hand and try to grab it without looking up.

“Are you ok?” he asks with concern. “It’s a heavy box and you’re going to need more than one hand. You need some help?”

I inadvertently glance up and find myself face to face with an older gentleman in a delivery uniform. He has a kind but concerned look on his face and is still holding the large box with my name written on the label.

“No, I think I can handle it,” I answer, my eyes now trained about a foot above him. I reach out tentatively and grab the package from his outstretched hands.

“Ok then. Well, have a lovely afternoon, Daniel,” he says with a smile before he turns and makes his way back towards the stairs. I watch him as he goes, unable to look away. Floating above his head, but slightly trailing behind him as he walks, is a jumble of words that spell out ‘I steal packages from rich people.’

Shaken from my encounter with the outside world, I slowly back into my apartment and close the door, locking it firmly. It had been 17 days since I had any contact with anyone. The longest I've gone since this all started was 23 days.

I get that I’m a freak and I’m in full acceptance of that fact.

I wish I had a great story to tell about why this is happening. An accident of some sort maybe? Or an encounter with an evil villain?  Nope. One day I woke up and was just like this. I remember getting up that day and getting ready as usual, but it became quickly apparent when I went outside that something was very wrong. All around me, people had words and messages floating above their heads in black type. My first thought was that I finally went mad, perhaps something had snapped and I was no longer based in reality. I forgot all about work and wandered around the London streets aimlessly, trying to comprehend what I was seeing around me. Feeling terrified and disoriented, I sat down on a bench in a quiet park away from the crowds. The brisk end of fall breeze cut right through me as it swirled dead leaves around my feet. Despite the wind, there were still people around, trying to get every last bit of outside activity in that they could before winter settled in. Now that I wasn’t in the middle of a crush of people, I was finally able to see individual people walking by one at a time which gave me an opportunity to observe both them and the inexplicable floating words.

‘I resent my husband and kids.’

‘I eat cereal for dinner every day.’

‘Lies about running 5k’s for charity.’

When people are bunched together in a crowd, the words overlap and become impossible to read, but when there are just a few people, I can easily understand them as they float and bob about a foot above their owner’s head. I used to try to make sense of the words but as I later learned, it’s next to impossible unless I actually know the person. Even after living like this for six months, some of them are still a mystery. As far as I can tell, they don’t have anything to do with what the person is currently thinking. With some, it appears that the words are identifying their purpose in life or an event in the future. For example, children often have things such as ‘discovers a way to stop hiccups’ or even, sadly, ‘carrying a gene for bone cancer.’ With adults, the messages are often very random. Some, like the delivery driver, display something they are ashamed of or a secret. Others show accomplishments like ‘saved a boy from drowning in a pool.’ Even more ambiguous and baffling are messages such as ‘only eats sandwiches’ showing up over a person eating a muffin. The only other pattern I can figure out is that with children, their words change every so often, but as adults, they seem to be permanent. It’s almost as if kids can still change their destiny, but adults are resigned to whatever words have attached themselves to them.

Being able to see the messages made me go mad, but trying to interpret them sunk me into a deep, unyielding depression. Because of their unreliability, I had no idea if they were the truth or lies. My brain started trying to classify people into ‘bad’ or ‘good’ based on what was floating over their heads. I constantly wrestled with social responsibility. Should I be trying to warn some of these people? One day I was walking to work and passed a man with ‘I murdered my neighbor’ message floating about his head. Was it true or not? Who was he? I had no way of knowing. That was the day I quit my job.

I thought I might be able to get used to it and just block it all out, but that proved easier said than done. If there are words in front of you, your brain automatically reads them. You can’t train yourself to ‘un-read, ’ and the constant inundation of information was just too much to process. Once it became apparent that this problem wasn’t going to right itself anytime soon, I moved and started working from home. I limited my daily outings, but I started having panic attacks every time I knew I was going to have to leave my apartment. Even looking out the windows and seeing people proved to be too much for me at this point. I started having to order groceries and household supplies online and having them delivered, but as today’s incident proved, even that wasn’t foolproof.

I desperately tried to figure out a way to get rid of them. I stayed locked in my room for days with thick blankets over the windows to keep out all of the light, taking sleeping pills to try to force myself to sleep until they left. I got prescription anti-anxiety pills from a friend thinking that maybe it was stress. As a last ditch effort, I drank until I couldn’t even function. Nothing. The words didn’t even waver.

Leaving the boxes stacked by the front door, I sit back down on the couch again with my laptop. I try to continue writing my blog, but tears are blurring my vision. I swipe at them uselessly before I give in and just let myself cry. With my head in my hands, the sound of sobbing fills the apartment. I want so badly to try and learn how to exist out in the world, even if it does include these floating words and accusations. In the end, the words won’t kill me, but the loneliness and depression will. That is the only thing I’ve managed to figure out in all of this mess. A counselor or psychiatrist is out of the question. I’m not sure what they do with people who claim to see words that may or may not mean something floating over everyone’s head, but I’m fairly certain it involves a straight jacket and massive amounts of medication. After a few minutes, the crying has slowed down to just sniffles and a few gasps for air and I wipe the remaining tears away with the sleeves of my black hoodie.

Starved for companionship, I’ve become religious about replying to comments on my blog and YouTube accounts. I mostly do reviews and updates on anime in addition to some of my own artwork. YouTube is mostly for drawing tutorials and occasional vlogging. It’s not like I have a ton of followers, but it’s enough that I can fill my days with random chatting and emails. There are a few people I talk to on a daily basis which gives a small but much needed amount of normalcy to my screwed up existence. Something that is a bit of a blessing is that people on TV or online videos don’t have the words above their heads, even if they are on a live feed. I’m curious if it is the same for Skype, but I don’t have anyone to test that out on.

Restless and hungry, I wander into the kitchen, grabbing the largest package on the way. I cut through the tape and start searching through the various boxes and canned goods. Pulling a fresh loaf of bread out of the box, I grab cheese and butter out of the refrigerator and proceed to make a grilled cheese sandwich. One side ends up a little overdone, but considering how hungry I am, it’s close enough. I tuck a can of soda into the front pocket of my hoodie and bring my sandwich and iPad over to the balcony door, opening it and sliding out to sit on my lone patio chair. The sun has almost set and the long shadows darken the street and sidewalk enough so that I can somewhat comfortably sit outside. I let my vision go blurry, taking care not to let it focus on anything except for my sandwich, drink, and the sky. My dinner goes down almost too quickly and I’m still hungry, but unwilling to give up my spot to find anything else to eat. My eyes close and I listen to the cacophony of surrounding city sounds as they blend and turn into a bland white noise, which calms my anxiety of being outside. This balcony in the evenings and at night is my happy place, but it also reminds me of the life I used to have, filled with friends and just the average everyday outings that everyone takes for granted.

Completely relaxed, a rare event, I remain unmoving with my eyes shut for long enough that when I finally do open them, dusk has passed and night has fallen. This is my favorite part of the day. All around me, the London street has come to life with bright, colorful lights. It’s the one time that I can feel even remotely normal. I shift to the edge of my chair and gaze over the balcony railing. The crowd has thinned out, but people are still coming and going from the coffee shop and adjacent restaurant across the street. The restaurant stays open until 11 pm, but the coffee shop is open 24 hours. I couldn’t figure out how it could do enough business to justify staying open all night, but a week long bout of insomnia prompted me to observe the shop overnight and apparently the nearby college has more than enough students to keep the doors open. I can still see words bobbing around with the people they belong to, but the darkness masks them somewhat and makes them hard to read.

I sigh and look down at the streets below, watching the people walk and go about their evening without even realizing I’m here. Between the darkness and the distance between myself and the crowd, I can still see glimpses of the words, but with only a few popping out distinctly.

“family”

“dessert”

“vacation”

“sadness”

“France”

“love”

Without the context of other words around them, they are just innocent and meaningless bits and pieces of text. If it were benign like this all the time, this peculiar talent of mine would be completely tolerable.

I'm not going to be like this forever. I need to figure out a way off of this balcony and out of these four walls before my mental health deteriorated any further. Step by step, regardless of the persistent floating words, I would get my life back. Right now, my plan is focused on getting myself into that coffee shop.

Each night, I spend hours staring across the street at it. From my angle, I can see the dark stone gray paint on the inside walls and comfortable looking furniture, making the interior look tranquil and safe. During the day, the large volume of customers would be too much for me to handle, but a late evening or middle of the night visit is a much more realistic goal. I’ve been observing the crowd patterns for two weeks now, and I think I have it figured out. Between 8 and 9 pm, the number of customers drops off considerably and it stays that way until around 1:45 am when the bars close and people pile in again for a late night coffee or snack. The slowest day of the week is Tuesday, which is today.

I’ve been putting it off, but tonight is the night. If I can manage to get out of my building and across the street sometime around 10 pm, I should be able to navigate the shop and ordering process without incident. By my calculations, the entire round trip should only take about 15 minutes. I double check the time and decide to leave here at 9:45, which is still an hour away, so I pick up my iPad and start making a few sketches to keep my mind off of the seemingly monumental adventure ahead of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone! I've written quite a few Phanfictions, but this one is a little different than usual for me. I'm a bit nervous about posting it, so if you like it so far, I'd love to get a kudo or comment so I'll know if I'm on the right track or not! It's going to be a short story (around 6 chapters) so make sure you come back to see what happens!
> 
> Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

I’ve been standing at the door in my living room with my hand on the doorknob for about 10 minutes now. The mental list of steps for going from point A to point B I’ve been keeping has been double checked about five times. I have my keys, wallet, and phone. I’m going to simply walk down the stairs, out the door and to the crosswalk at the corner. I’m going to check for cars, but keep my eyes lower than about 4 feet off the ground. That should keep the words from being in my line of sight and still prevent me from running into anyone. I’m going to walk into the shop, order an iced caramel macchiato and then come home. Simple. 

With one last deep breath, I turn the knob and step out into the hall. I stand quietly, listening for any sort of noise before I lock the door behind me. I walk tentatively down the hall to the staircase where I slowly make my way down to the first floor. When I open the door leading outside, I can feel myself starting to panic, so I step to the side and lean against the building for support, trying to slow down my pounding heart. I briefly consider calling the whole thing off and running back upstairs, but after a few minutes and an internal pep talk, I venture forward to the crosswalk. The signal is already in my favor, so after a quick glance back and forth I practically sprint across the street before skidding to a sudden halt before I run into a loud group of people on their way into the restaurant next door. Frozen, I stare down at my shoes as they pass, jostling into me along the way.

I look up to find myself standing right in front of the glass door leading into the coffee shop. To my relief, there are maybe two or three people scattered around the store which is exactly what I was hoping. I push my way through the door and step inside, instantly enveloped in the delicious smell of coffee and baked goods. I hesitatingly approach the counter, keeping my eyes glued to the menu despite already knowing what I want. 

“Hi! What can I get for you?” the barista chirps.

“Hi,” I start, not meeting her eyes. “A large iced caramel macchiato please.” I reach into my wallet and slide a five dollar bill across the counter. 

After she hands me my change, she turns away to make my drink. If I’m going to be able to function in public, I’m going to have to get used to seeing those god awful floating words. I take a few deep breaths and look at the barista and slowly let my eyes trail up to the space above her head.

‘Has irrational fear of cats’

Relief floods my body and I almost laugh. Ok, that was an easy one. Feeling a little bit braver, I look around the shop, taking in as much as possible while she finishes making my drink. From what I can tell, there are three other customers, all of whom appear to be reading, but I don’t dare let my gaze linger on them. The shop is even larger than what it looks like from my balcony. The central area has several small café tables and wooden chairs in addition to the comfortable stuffed couches and chairs further towards the back. I make a mental note and decide that my next goal will be to drink my coffee here instead of taking it home.

I turn back to the counter just as the cat fearing barista sets my drink down on the counter with a smile. With a final look around me, I grab the beverage and quickly head to the door, not wanting to tempt fate. Just as I reach for the handle, a group of three college age guys push their way through and I hop out of the way just in time.

“Sorry about that,” one of them says nicely, holding the door for me.

“Thanks,” I mumble back, instinctively ducking my head down, but not before I see the words floating above him.

‘Doesn’t wear underwear.’

I get all the way outside before I laugh hard enough to almost spill my drink. Making my way across the street and back home without incident, I feel more hopeful than I have for the past six months.

\-------------------------

Over the next three weeks, I manage to make tremendous progress. I’ve gotten myself into the routine of going to the coffee shop four nights a week, Sunday through Wednesday. Some visits I get a drink and a snack, and others I just go over to sit inconspicuously in a comfortable out of the way stuffed chair with my iPad or laptop to work for a few hours. Something that I didn’t consider is how many other people stick to a strict routine as well. There are a few new faces every night, but regulars mostly occupy the shop. Because of this, I’m able to examine people and their words at my own pace, and so far, there haven’t been many overly uncomfortable or disturbing floating messages. I’ve also gotten more adept at never looking up high enough to see the words at all. 

I’ve had a few small setbacks along the way, like when an entire cheerleading squad came pouring through the doors along with all of their loud yelling and tangle of words above their heads. My chest had tightened and I had to make a desperate escape before I completely broke down in public. It took me three days before I could bring myself to cross the street again. 

Right now, I’m wearing my favorite blue hoodie and am curled up in my usual chair that has a good view of the entire shop. I’m fighting off some writers block by struggling through a new anime review, but, distracted, my eyes are wandering lazily around my surroundings.

The usual group of three college boys is sitting off to the side working on homework as they do at least two nights a week. One of them is particularly cute, but I am more amused by his collection of quirky shirts. Today it’s a short sleeved button-up with a cactus print. The other guys are interchangeable, but he always stands out. There’s an older gentleman with a cane who always sits at the table in the front window, reading his newspaper and drinking plain black coffee. Two twenty-something girls, apparently keeping the same schedule as I do, sit in the same loveseat in the very back of the shop and for some reason, the dark haired one was almost always crying about something. Another woman is there most nights and each time I see her, she’s reading a different book. One evening I almost ran into her while getting a refill and accidentally read the words above her head: ‘I hoard things made of paper.’ I guess that probably explains all of the books. 

I shake my head and try to focus again on my writing, sucking the last bit of iced mocha through the straw. Maybe all of the caffeine I’ve had in the past few weeks is what’s causing my writer’s block. Maybe I should look that up on Google to see if that’s a thing. No, wait. Concentrate on the review. Urg. Getting nowhere, I switch over to my drawing app to clear my head and quickly get lost in my sketching.

“That’s really an amazing drawing.”

Startled, I jump at the voice coming from close behind me. 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” the owner of the melodic male voice says again. “I didn’t mean to sneak up and scare you like that.”

I’m desperate to look and see who is speaking to me but caught off guard, I’m terrified of what words might be floating over him. So instead, I just glance behind me quickly, only getting an eyeful of black jeans and the sense that the owner of the voice is tall. 

To my surprise, the person doesn’t go away but instead flops into the plush chair next to mine. I take another quick peek and my heart starts to pound. I didn’t look at his face, but I don’t need to because I would recognize that cactus shirt from anywhere. It’s him. Looking up, I search out the group of three college guys, but find only two of them, confirming my suspicions. And much to my surprise, they are both looking in my direction but quickly turn away when I catch their gaze. One of them, I notice, is the ‘doesn’t wear underwear’ guy I almost ran into on my first visit. The other, a short redhead with freckles, suddenly bends down to dig something out of his backpack that’s sitting on the floor, and the words that were just safely above his head are now in my direct line of sight. ‘I only study business because my dad makes me.’ 

“I see you in here a lot,” the dark haired boy continues. “Do you go to school at King’s College?”

“Oh, um, no, but I used to. I just live across the street actually,” I answer softly, staring down at my drawing, the stylus nervously shaking in my hand.

“Really? I love the coffee and croissants here. If I lived across the street, I would probably just stay in here all day. I only live a few blocks over but it seems I always find my way to this shop more than I probably should.”

He continues to babble on about coffee and I’m finding it impossible not to smile. His voice is so animated and the joy in it is practically contagious. As I listen to him talk, I find myself hoping that he doesn’t stop, but I know I’m in danger of that happening if I can’t manage to carry on part of the conversation like a normal human being. Taking a deep breath and steeling my nerves, I look up at his face and concentrate on his eyes, not daring to look up any further than that. The last thing I need right now is to see the words ‘I ran over my neighbor’s cat’ or ‘I set my dorm room on fire’ floating above him. Although the way my brain is short circuiting because the most beautiful baby blue eyes that I’ve ever seen are currently locked onto my brown ones, neither one of those things may be deal breakers. 

“So what do you do if you don’t go to school?” he asks in a friendly voice, bringing my focus back to him. 

“I have a blog for my artwork and reviewing anime and a YouTube channel for drawing tutorials,” I say, feeling a little self-conscious about my glaring lack of a real job.

“I wish I could draw like that,” he says, stretching over closer to look at my iPad. “Even my stick figures look like they’re in distress of some sort. Maybe I need to go check out your channel and take a lesson or two. Actually, I’m sure I’ll need more help than that.”

I can feel my cheeks heat up when I realize he’s now only about a foot away from me. He’s close enough I can smell his shampoo and it’s all I can do to keep myself from leaning in and sniffing his black hair. My eyes focus on my drawing, but unfortunately, his proximity is also making his floating text drift into my peripheral vision. Thankfully, he leans back and makes himself comfortable in his chair again. 

“What’s the name of your channel?

“Dan is not on Fire.”

“Oh!” he exclaims loudly. “I didn’t even ask you your name or anything! So you’re Dan?”

“Daniel. Or Dan. I mean, either is fine,” I stammer back as I try to stifle a smile again at his never-ending enthusiasm.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Daniel,” he says with a huge smile. “I’m Phil.”

He looks back over at his friends and his face puckers into a frown. “I guess we’re leaving,” he grumbles as he watches his friends stand and pack up their books. 

I’m surprised as I’m suddenly flooded with disappointment at his quick departure.

“So, um, I wish we could have gotten to talk some more,” he says, sounding flustered. “Do you think you might be back here tomorrow night?”

“Yeah,” I answer quickly. “I’m usually here on Wednesdays.”

His face lights up with a gorgeous smile and I’m almost left speechless.

“Ok, then, maybe we can have coffee together tomorrow night? I mean, unless you want tea. It’s a coffee shop but they have tea, too,” he rambles. “And maybe you could show me some more of your drawings? If you want. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but they’re really fantastic.”

“Phil, come on!” his red headed reluctant business major friend calls from across the room.

“I better go. So, tomorrow night, yeah? 9:30?”

Completely flustered, I can’t do anything but nod yes. Phil rewards me with another big smile before he trots off to his friends. When they reach the front of the shop, he stops and turns around to look at me again with a big goofy grin on his face. Realizing that he has stopped walking, one of his friends reaches back and grabs the collar of his cactus shirt and yanks him out of the door. I try not to laugh at his flailing around to keep his balance, but fail miserably.


	3. Chapter 3

The next 24 hours crept by painfully slow. I left the coffee shop shortly after Phil and his friends. I stayed up for a bit watching TV and surfing around online but eventually decided that sleep would make the time go faster. Unfortunately, I tossed and turned restlessly for hours with my insomnia winning the battle leaving me groggy today. 

This is going to be the first social engagement I’ve had with another person since the floating words showed up going on seven months ago. A big question is whether or not this is a date. I’ve over analyzed the situation as much as humanly possible but still don’t have a clear answer. I mean, it’s entirely possible that he was just asking if I was going to be there tomorrow as opposed to asking if I would be there with him. He could have even meant that he wanted me to hang out with him and his friends which is a definite possibility since I’ve never seen him there alone before. This entire situation has left me with zero ability to read social cues in these situations, not that I was ever all that great at it to begin with. Of course, the biggest question is if he is gay or not. Because if not, and this is just two new friends hanging out, I probably shouldn’t be having some of the thoughts that I’m having right now about him. I smile at the prospect of those blue eyes looking at me again in just one short hour.

I’m also trying to ignore the fact that I need to read whatever is above his head. It’s probably something harmless like most of the other floating words I’ve seen around the coffee shop, but what if it isn’t? What if it’s something horrible like ‘I kill puppies and kittens’? I remind myself that the words aren’t necessarily the truth, but how can you ignore something like that?

I wander into my bedroom and start sorting through my clothes. I want to wear something other than my usual sweat pants and band t-shirts, but at the same time, I don’t want to look like I dressed up, especially since I’m not sure if it’s a date or not. I’m aiming for casual, but not an ‘I just rolled out of bed’ level of casual. Everything that has been laying in the bottom of my closet since I’ve moved is out because I don’t own an iron. Sweat pants or pajama pants are out. Jeans and a clean plain black t-shirt it is since that’s all that’s left. 

With just a little more time to kill, I log onto YouTube to sort through any new comments on the previously filmed ProCreate tutorial I ended up editing and uploading in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. I scan through my notifications, happy to notice some new subscribers and quite a few comments. Scrolling through the comments, I see that they are between PinkAnime and a user who I don’t recognize. Pink is an anime artist from Australia that I talk with on a daily basis, but I’m not quite sure who AmazingPhil is so I click on his user name to peek at his profile. Wait. It can’t be that Phil, can it? Oh god. It is. I completely forgot I told him the name of my channel. In a panic, I quickly switch back to the comments, needing to know what he said.

AmazingPhil: Your drawings are incredible! Bring your iPad tonight so I can see more of them!

PinkAnime: Wait. What’s going on here? Are you actually leaving your apartment, Dan?

I’m going to kill her. Like with actual death and everything. I’m always completely honest with people and openly admit I rarely leave my apartment, I just leave out why and let them make their assumptions.

AmazingPhil: I lured him out with coffee. 

PinkAnime: Oh reeeeeaaallly. I don’t think he’s ever mentioned you before. How do the two of you know each other?

AmazingPhil: We met at a coffee shop. 

PinkAnime: I see. And where are the two of you going tonight? 

AmazingPhil: Just back to the coffee shop. I spend a lot of time there with my two roommates.

PinkAnime: Ah. So the four of you are just going to hang out then?

AmazingPhil: Actually, it’s just going to be the two of us.

It’s a date. I’m going on a date. Or maybe it’s not? Shit. I have no idea what’s going on.

PinkAnime: Interesting. That almost sounds like it might be a date.

AmazingPhil: Maybe ;)

Winky face and a maybe? Is that a yes? Or is that him avoiding answering the question? I am so bad at this.

I glance at the time and curse, snapping the laptop shut. I’m going to be late. Running around frantically, I grab my keys, phone, and iPad. I take a last minute look in the mirror and groan when I realize I forgot to do anything with my hair. I run my fingers through my brunette curls, trying to poke and prod them into some sort of order. Giving up, I sprint through the door and across the street in record time, hoping to get there before he does. Luckily, I do so it gives me a few extra minutes to compose myself and catch my breath after the sudden burst of unexpected exercise. My usual spot is open, so I amble over to awkwardly wait for Phil to arrive for our date that may or may not be a date. Not knowing what to do with myself, I open my iPad and start sketching to keep my mind occupied and hopefully prevent flat out panic from setting in while I wait. 

“You brought it!” 

I jump and almost slide right out of my chair.

“Sorry! I can’t believe I did that again! I need to wear a bell like a cat,” Phil says apologetically. “What I was trying to say is that I’m glad you brought the IPad so I can see some of your other drawings.”

With my heart still in my throat, I turn and look up at the handsome boy who may possibly be my date for the evening. “T-That’s OK,” I stammer, already feeling a little self-conscious from being caught so off guard. I try to stand up but he stops me.

“What do you want to drink? You stay there and I’ll get it for you.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised for the second time already tonight. “An iced caramel macchiato, please.” 

I sit back and watch him as he happily gets in line to get our drinks. The first thing I do is look around the coffee shop to double check that his YouTube post was correct and that he is indeed here alone. I smile slightly when I don’t see his friends in their usual place and now I’m about 80% sure this is a date. While he’s placing our order, I take a few minutes to study him, careful to avoid the floating words. There would be time to deal with that later. I’m happy to see that he’s wearing another one of his quirky button up shirts. This one is a dark navy blue with a corgi pattern on it. On anyone else, it would probably look ridiculous, but on him, it seemed quite charming. His hair is such a dark brown it’s almost black and he continuously brushes the fringe back off of his forehead. We’ve never stood next to each other, but compared to the other people in line, I think he’s almost as tall as I am. He glances back and catches me looking at him and smiles back at me, his blue eyes dancing. Feeling a hot blush creeping up my neck, I grin and bashfully look away, quickly occupying myself with my iPad again.

A few minutes later he’s back, precariously trying to balance both drinks and two chocolate chip cookies. I take mine quickly since it looks like he’s about 10 seconds away from dropping everything. He puts his cup down on the small side table by our chairs and turns and sits at an angle so we’re facing each other.

“Thank you,” I say, sipping my drink.

“So,” he starts. “Is this a date?”

I immediately start choking on my coffee and he leans forward and pats my back.

“I can’t even believe you’re still here! I’ve scared you half to death twice and then made you choke. It’s like you have to have a death wish to hang out with me! This type of thing happens to me all the time.” Confident that I’m not going to die, he leans back in his chair and looks at me with concern.

“I’m ok,” I reassure him. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting that question. You’re very direct.”

“People have told me that before,” he says with a slight frown. “You don’t have to answer that question if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve actually been trying to figure that out myself,” I answer, hesitantly. “I saw your conversation with PinkAnime on my YouTube video.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know how to answer that. I wasn’t sure if it was or wasn’t so I didn’t want to just assume or inadvertently out you if you weren’t…..well, you know. But I was really hoping that this was going to be a date. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a few weeks now.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised. 

“My friends got tired of me debating if you were gay or not and they finally made me go talk to you so I’d shut up about it. So, this is a date then? Because I really want it to be.”

“Ok, it’s a date,” I say shyly, sipping at my drink and trying not to blush. His face lights up and I feel my heart flutter.

We continued to talk and I thoroughly lost myself in conversation, my nervousness completely melting away. I have always been a bit shy but when I ran out of words, he had more than enough to prevent any awkward silences. We told stories about our families and growing up. I talked to him about studying art for two years in college before dropping out to get a job and he talked about all of his film classes he was taking and offered to help me with my videos if I ever needed it. We finished off our coffee and cookies and then ended up buying some pastries as well which we ate while going through some of my artwork. He made me promise to email him a few pictures so he could use them as the wallpaper on his laptop. 

The only time I felt awkward was when he asked me about things I liked to do around London. Telling him the entire truth wasn’t really an option at this point, so I just explained that I quit my job and was going through some things so I haven’t been out a lot in the past six months, but was slowly trying to get out more. He accepted that answer without question and suggested a few things close by if I was interested in going someplace with him for another date. Without overthinking it, I readily agreed, excited at the thought of getting to spend more time with him.

My eyes start to feel heavy so I glance down at the time and am shocked to find that it is already 1:30 am. I look around and realize that we’re the only two people left in the shop.

“Did you see what time it is?” I ask.

He checks and his eyes go wide. “I guess I better go,” he says reluctantly. “I have early classes on Thursdays. Tonight felt like it went by too fast. I can’t believe we’ve been talking for 4 hours!”

We throw our empty cups away and he holds the door open for me as walk outside into the chilly pre-Autumn air. 

“So, I guess I wouldn’t be a very good date unless I walked you home,” Phil says with one of his trademark smiles.

“You don’t have to do that. I only live across the street,” I answer. “It’s late and you have classes in a few hours.”

“Well, that would make it even worse if I couldn’t be bothered to walk across the street with you, wouldn’t it? Besides, it’s a good excuse to hold hands.” He holds his hand out to me and I take it, weaving our fingers together. I’m blushing so hard I can’t bring myself to look up at him.  
Traffic is almost nonexistent so we meander slowly across the street, enjoying our last few minutes together.

“Hey, let me see your phone for a second,” he says.

“What for?” I ask as I dig it out of my pocket with my free hand and give it to him.

“We don’t even have each other’s phone numbers. I can’t inundate you with texts and send memes without it. Besides, YouTube is the only way I have of contacting you right now and I’m sort of scared of your friend PinkAnime.” He types quickly into my phone and it chimes once before handing it back to me. I look down at it and click on the text notification: Will you go out with me again? 

“Of course,” I answer shyly, looking at my feet. “I’d really like that.”

“Do you think maybe I could give you a kiss goodnight?” he asks cautiously. I glance up in surprise and see that for once I’m not the one who is blushing.

Totally out of my element again, I just nod yes. 

He nervously steps forward and the next thing I know our faces are only a few inches apart and those blue eyes are on mine again. He puts his hands on my waist and leans in slowly, the smell of his hair and cologne are intoxicating and it’s all I can do to keep myself from grabbing him and yanking him towards me. I close my eyes just before I feel his lips on mine, and it’s perfect.  
He pulls away just a little bit and I loop my hands around the back of his neck, preventing him from moving any further away. We stand like that for a minute, holding each other and not wanting to let go before I pull him towards me for another kiss. This kiss, however, immediately leads to other kisses and him stepping a half step closer so our bodies are pressed together. He reluctantly stops and we stand like that, staring into each other’s eyes with our foreheads touching.

“I wish I could stay,” he murmurs sadly. “Maybe I can see you again tomorrow?”

“I would like that,” I answer, my smile immediate. 

He pulls back with a dreamy look on his face.

“Good night,” he says softly as he takes a few steps walking backward, still staring at me before he turns and strolls away.

I stand there, unmoving, as I watch his back. Completely lost in the moment, I let my guard down and when I glance up, I’m immediately confronted with the words floating lazily above him. My mouth goes dry and I feel dizzy, almost like I’m going to faint. I frantically search my brain trying to figure out how this could be. I shut my eyes tightly and then open them again, thinking that surely I must have misread them, but the two words floating above his head are still there, plain as day:

‘Daniel Howell.’


	4. Chapter 4

Night has come and gone, and once again I hardly slept. Two nights of no sleep is catching up with me and everything is starting to fuzz around the edges. The only thing I can come up with is that Phil and I must have met before. There’s no other reason as to why my name is floating above him. If it turns out that we have crossed paths before, how long has my name been there and when did it show up? Even if I could figure that out, it still doesn’t explain why my name is there to begin with.

I pick up my phone and open it up to my text conversation with Phil that we’ve been having for off and on all day.

(2:00am)  
Phil: So did you make it home ok?

Me: Phil. You walked me to the front door 30 minutes ago.

Phil: Well, you could have fallen down the steps or something. I don’t know.

Me: Yes, I made it up the stairs and am already in bed. It’s charming that you’re concerned.

Phil: :]

Me: :]

 

(7:45 am)

Phil: I’m late for class.

Me: What time is your class?

Phil: 8:00.

Me: lol…then why are you texting me? Run, man, run! You still have 15 minutes!

Phil: I hate exercise. Why are you awake this early?

Me: I couldn’t fall asleep.

Phil: :[

 

(1:45pm)

Phil: One more class to go!

Me: yawn

Phil: Does that mean you were able to take a nap?

Me: it does

Phil: Yea! Do you dream when you nap?

Me: Not usually, but I did today.

Phil: What did you dream about?

Me: Corgis and Cacti

Phil: Hey! I have shirts with those things on them!

Me: I know :]

Phil: Do you still want to hang out again tonight? *hoping he says yes*

Me: yes!

Phil: I know we’re both probably tired, so I thought maybe some Chinese takeaway and Netflix?

Me: That sounds perfect!

Phil: Do you want to come over here or would you rather me come to your place?

Me: ummm….maybe you could come here?

Phil: 8:00?

Me: Ok. It’s apartment 2B on the second floor.

Phil: See you then!

I smile as I reread it for the tenth time. I spent all afternoon trying to straighten up my apartment. After all this time I’m not even sure how to have company over anymore, plus I’m a little embarrassed that I’ve done so little with this place since I’ve moved in. At least the bed is made, the clutter is gone, dishes are clean, and my clothes are hung up for the first time in ages. As an afterthought, I open the blinds of the sliding glass door to make the living room a little less cave-like. Of course, I was worried about something else far more than I was concerned about cleaning or decorating. I needed to know if my name is still there.

There’s a loud knock on the door and I’m instantly equal parts excited and terrified. I open the door and my heart flutters as soon as I see Phil, and I can’t suppress the big goofy grin that’s found its way onto my face. Once again, he’s carrying way too much stuff and looks like he’s about 5 seconds away from dropping all of it.

“Hello again,” I say, suddenly bashful, as I grab one of the bags and sodas out of his hands and carry them to the coffee table with him close behind. I turn around and he almost runs right into me. Finding myself face to face with him, I’m already spellbound by his blue eyes.

“Hi to you too,” he happily answers, quickly dropping his other bag and drink on the table before leaning in for a soft kiss. I ball my hands into fists to keep myself from shoving him onto the couch and pinning him down. There’s something about him that makes it next to impossible for me to not act like a horny teenager. Maybe it’s because of the shirts, I think as I eye his black shirt with little planets on it. Or those eyes. Or hair. Or pretty much anything and everything about him.

A bit lost in my daydream, I’m taken by surprise when he plops down on the couch, and I’m face to face with my own name, still floating above his head and mocking my inner turmoil. I try to slow down my breathing and stamp down the panic that is steadily rising in my throat.

“Are you ok?” Phil asks, tilting his head and looking at me as he starts taking boxes of food out of the bag. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“I was just wondering,” I say, grasping for words. “Do you think there’s a chance we may have met before?” I finally blurt out as I join him on the couch.

Phil looks thoughtful for a few seconds. “No, I don’t think so. Why? Where would we have met?”

“I don’t know. I just thought that you feel really…..familiar.”

He pauses before he looks up and smiles before leaning over and kissing my cheek, causing a little tremor to race through my body. “Familiar,” he repeats. “That’s a good way to describe it. I feel the same way about you.”

Feeling myself getting emotional, I grab the remote and open up Netflix. “So, what kinds of things do you like to watch?” I ask, promptly changing the subject to something a little more benign.

“I’ll pretty much watch anything,” he answers absently as he searches around amongst all of the boxes. “Forks?” I put down the remote and go to fetch forks and two plates from the kitchen and when I get back, there’s an episode of Buffy playing. I raise my eyebrows at him and he shrugs back at me apologetically as we start dishing out the food.

“I guess this is sort of a nosy question,” Phil starts, “but you mentioned you were going through some stuff and didn’t leave your apartment much. Is there anything you need help with?”

“That’s actually really a sweet thing to ask,” I reply with surprise. “My friends just kept telling me to ‘get over it’ or how to ‘fix it.' After there was no quick fix, they just sort of all disappeared and stopped coming around. No one has ever asked if I needed any help with things before.” We eat for a few more minutes in silence, watching Buffy. For the first time, I actually want to share what I’m going through with someone, but I’m terrified he’s going to go running out the door if he knew all of the details, which would be tragic for a few reasons. First, I am completely head over heels for him. I wasn’t kidding when I said he feels familiar, like he belongs in my life on a daily basis. Second, if he leaves, I’ll never know why he has my name floating over him. I don’t think I could live the rest of my life not knowing the answer to that.

“So, I started having really extreme issues with depression and anxiety,” I start out cautiously, staring down at my plate. He grabs the remote and hits the mute button, turning to face me so he knows I have his full attention. “It got so bad I couldn’t leave my apartment to go to work or just do everyday life things. I ended up quitting and downsizing a lot, as you can see by this tiny place. However, the longer I stayed isolated, the harder it was to actually leave and go out into the real world. I keep myself afloat from YouTube, Patreon, and doing custom artwork for people, which is actually a pretty cool way to make a living. ” I glance up to see if Phil is still listening and find that he’s looking at me intently, waiting for me to continue.

“I spend a lot of time out on the balcony,” I continue, gesturing at the sliding door, “and I have a perfect view of the coffee shop, so my goal was to be able to go across the street and get myself a coffee. I haven’t really gotten any further past that, but sometime soon I’m hoping to get a little further.”

I watch Phil, nervously waiting for him to say something, but to my surprise, he pulls me into a tight hug, which I gratefully return, melting into his chest. Even though I didn’t reveal everything, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.

“Would it help if we went to a new place together?” he asks.

“Maybe. Part of why I’m able to go to the coffee shop is because since I can see it from here, I know what to expect and how crowded it’s going to be which helps the anxiety.”

“There’s an amazing burger place on this street about a block over. What if I took some pictures for you so you know what it looks like and then maybe we could work up to walking there and picking up a takeaway order?”

“We?” I say curiously.

“Well, yeah,” he answers. “I mean if that’s OK with you. Or we can do something different. Whatever you’re comfortable with, but those burgers are pretty good.”

I try to smile, but don’t quite pull it off.

“Oh no!” Phil says, frowning. “Was it something I said? It usually is.”

“No, not at all,” I say, linking our fingers together. “I think you’re amazing for helping me, but at the same time I feel sort of embarrassed that I need the help at all.”

I barely get the words out before his lips are on mine. “Don’t say that. You are perfect just how you are and have no reason to be embarrassed. You’re a fantastic artist, funny, smart, and probably the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. Seriously, I can’t believe you even talked to me when I came up to you in the coffee shop.”

Not used to compliments, I try to hide my grin and the blush heating up my cheeks so I turn back to my food and start eating again. Smiling, he nudges me with his elbow and clicks Buffy back on as he finishes his dinner. Happy and full, the lack of sleep for the past two days start to catch up with me and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

“Sleepy?” he asks.

“Yeah, a little bit,” I answer. “but I'm all right,” I quickly add, not wanting him to leave.

“You can kick me out any time you want. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“That would be impossible.”

He looks at me for a minute, before he puts his hand on my upper arm and shoves me over so I’m lying on my side on the couch. Surprised, I laugh and struggle to sit back up, but he stops me.’

“Just stay there. Don’t move,” he says with a grin as he starts cleaning up all the takeaway containers and plates.

“Let me help.”

“Nope. Lay down.”

I’m not going to lie, it feels fantastic to be taken care of for once. It’s been such a long time since I’ve had any sort of emotional or physical connection with anyone, I’ve forgotten what I’ve been missing. I can feel all of the anxiety draining out of my body, but suddenly, the living room light goes off, just leaving the light from the tv and hallway. The next thing I know, he’s back and sitting on the far end of the couch.

“Scoot up a little bit,” he directs.

After I move forward a bit, he grabs a throw pillow and wedges himself between my back and the back of the couch, tucking the pillow under his head. Being spooned by Phil is officially the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

“Is this ok?” he asks nervously. “Are you comfortable?”

“It’s perfect,” I practically moan as he snuggles in with his chest pressed up against my back and arm wrapped around me. My eyes nearly roll back in my head when I feel his breath by my ear and I’m definitely not prepared when all of a sudden his lips are laying small kisses up my neck. When he reaches just below my jaw, I actually do moan loudly this time. Mortified, I put my hand over my mouth.

“I’m going to have to remember where that spot is,” he murmurs in my ear before settling back down with his head on the pillow again. “I could really get used to this,” he whispers, pulling me even closer.

“Me too,” I answer softly as I start to drift off in his arms.


	5. Chapter 5

I wake up startled, instantly aware of an absence. Instead of waking up with Phil wrapped around me, there is a blanket in his place. I start to panic, trying to untangle myself from the blanket in the pitch black so I can turn on the side table light. Once it’s on, I look around and confirm what I already know. He’s gone. Completely disoriented, I grab my phone and see that it’s 3:00 am. To my relief, there’re also three texts from Phil that were sent around midnight. 

(12:30 am)  
Phil: I have a class in the morning so I have to go, but I don’t want to wake you up. I had a wonderful time tonight and I’m only partially insulted that you fell asleep during Buffy ;) I hope you see this as soon as you wake up. I don’t want you to think I waited for you to fall asleep and then snuck out. If I had all of my school stuff with me, I would have gladly snuggled with you all night. I went to the coffee shop and brought you back pastries for breakfast and left them on the coffee table. 

Phil: Please text me in the morning. I’m nervous that you might be upset with me when you wake up and I’m not there. Believe me when I say that the last thing I wanted to do is leave.

Phil: PS You look adorable when you sleep.

My heart flutters after reading the messages. I look up and notice the paper bag sitting on the table and when I open it up, there is a cheese danish and a chocolate croissant. Somehow Phil managed to figure out my favorites. All of these feelings I’m having are completely foreign. It’s been such a long time since I’ve even dated I don’t remember how it all works, plus I never thought in a million years I would meet someone who would accept all of my issues. Despite being 3 am, I dig into the bag and pull out the danish and start eating. I grab the remote to turn on the tv and Buffy fills the screen. I grin and hit play before rereading his messages. On an impulse, I turn around so the tv is visible behind me and hold up the pastry before taking a selfie. 

(3:00 am)  
Me: I woke up in the middle of the night and was pleasantly surprised with sweet texts and my favorite breakfast food. I wish you were here to share them with me, but I know you have classes and homework to do. If you come over here often enough, you may just make a Buffy convert out of me yet ;)

I attach the photo I just took and hit send. 

Still sleepy, I lay back down and snuggle up under the blanket he got for me. I go to turn the tv off but change my mind, just turning down the volume instead. After only a few short minutes, I drift off to sleep with Buffy playing in the background and a pillow that still smells like Phil under my head. 

\----------------

The mid-day sun streams through the balcony blinds that I accidentally left open the night before. I roll over and fall off of the couch in a tangle of arms, legs, and blanket, hitting the floor with a thud. Even that isn’t enough to wake me up fully, so I continue to lay there in a fog unsure of why I’m in the living room to begin with. I yawn and stretch but instantly regret it when my back cramps in pain. My eyes travel around the room and settle on the bag sitting on the coffee table. My head starts to clear and I smile as I remember falling asleep next to Phil. Not ready to address my aching back, I grab around on the table until my fingers find the bag, which I immediately open and ravage the remaining pastry while still laying on the floor. I’m starving and it feels like I haven’t eaten in ages. 

Feeling something sharp under my back, I wiggle around until I retrieve my phone which is lodged firmly under me. I check the time and am surprised when I see it’s already 2:00 in the afternoon. I'm not able to recall the last time I slept this late. Not only did I get a fantastic night’s rest, but I'm also happy to see I have several more texts from Phil waiting for me. 

(7:00 am)  
Phil: Oh my gosh! You’re actually watching it! That makes me so happy!

(10:30 am)  
Phil: Are you awake yet, sleepy head?

(1:00 pm)  
Phil: Ok, now I feel like a crazy stalker boyfriend because I keep texting you. I’ll stop.

Phil: I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t assume that we’re boyfriends just because we’ve spent time together the last few days. 

Boyfriend? I bite my bottom lip and it’s all I can do to keep from giggling like a school girl. 

Phil: Unless you want to be my boyfriend that is. Of course, I haven’t heard from you so now I’m worried you are upset about last night.

Phil: I’ll stop now for real. 

(2:15 pm)  
Me: I’m not mad at all! I just now woke up.

His response is almost immediate.

Phil: You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. I probably need to stop overthinking everything.

Before I even have a chance to respond, he sends another text. 

Phil: So you know what today is, right?

Since I don’t have an actual job, my days tend to blend together so I actually have to stop and think before I can even answer such a simple question.

Me: Friday?

Phil: You know what that means?

Me: Tomorrow is Saturday?

Phil: Yes, but what else?

Me: Ummmm

Phil: It means there’s no school tomorrow, so if a certain someone invited me over to spend the night and do something together on Saturday I would be free. 

Me: If I had a boyfriend I would love for him to do something like that. ;)

Phil: !!!!!!!!!!!!

Phil: That means yes by the way.

Me: I know, you spoon. Get over here.

\---------------

Time stands still. I wish I would have asked Phil what time he was coming over as opposed to just planning for the ambiguous ‘tonight.' I thought about texting him, but I didn’t want to seem pushy or needy, so here I sit and wait. I’ve already spent all of my nervous energy cleaning, even though I just did that before his visit yesterday, so there’s nothing left to do at this point other than work or watch tv. 

Suddenly, something else crosses my mind that hadn’t occurred to me yet. So if he’s my boyfriend, certain physical activities go along with being in a relationship. I’m hoping that he doesn’t think ‘spend the night’ means an invitation to have sex. After all, he is a college student and I remember very well from when I was in school how often people hooked-up casually. Granted, I can barely keep my hands off of him, but I don’t want to just rush everything. I need for all of this to mean something. For both of us. I try not to overthink it and make an issue out of something that isn’t one. Instead, I lay back on the couch and let my mind drift to more pleasant things. Like kissing Phil. And snuggling with Phil. And more kissing with Phil.

Ten minutes later, I’m jolted out of my blissful daydream involving Phil and a deserted tropical island by a loud banging on the door that’s strong enough to rattle it in its frame. I rush over to open it and find Phil with armfuls of shopping bags, which probably explains why he kicked the door instead of knocking. 

“What is all of this stuff?” I ask while trying to grab some of the bags. I immediately glance above him to check if my name is still floating there and find that it’s still solidly in place. Part of me will always be sad every time I see the floating words and messages, but in this case, I surprise myself by finding that I feel comforted that my name is still there with him. 

“I have some things for you,” he says mysteriously, holding them out of my reach. “Go sit down. I want it to be a surprise.”

I turn around so my back is facing him but don’t walk away. “Is part of the surprise food? You really can’t hide that because I can smell it.”

“That’s cheating!” Phil protests.

“I have to breath! How is that cheating?”

“Fine,” he huffs, “but at least go sit down on the couch and close your eyes, yeah?”

“Ok, but hurry. Whatever you brought smells delicious!”

I wander over to the couch and sit cross-legged on the middle cushion with my eyes closed, listening to all of the rustlings of bags in the kitchen. Shortly, the food smell gets stronger and I can feel the weight of Phil on the couch next to me.

“Open your eyes!” he says excitedly.

I open my eyes and look at amazement at everything on the coffee table. There are two takeout boxes with the best cheeseburgers I’ve ever seen, plus piles of French fries and two sodas. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve had food like this. On the corner of the table is a potted plant with beautiful bright green leaves. The gifts are simple, but the thought behind them is priceless. Completely overwhelmed with emotion, I glance over at him and see that he’s looking back at me expectantly. I throw my arms around him and bury my face in his neck, feeling the tears start to fall down my cheeks. 

“Thank you,” I finally stammer. “I don’t even know what to say.”

He pulls away a little bit and looks at my face with a concerned frown. “Are you crying? Don’t cry!”

I laugh and brush the tears off with the sleeves of my sweatshirt. “Don’t worry, they’re good tears. Very good tears.” 

A look of relief washes over his face. “I’m so glad! I didn’t know what you liked on your burger so I just got everything and figured you could pick off what you don’t like,” he explains, talking quickly. “And there’s cheesecake in the refrigerator for dessert and a few other snacks and things so you’ll have them to eat next week. Oh, and this plant. I really like plants and have a lot of them so I thought maybe you might like to have one too.”

“I love the plant,” I say reassuring him. “I’m going to have to remember to leave the blinds open so it can get some light.”

“And water it,” Phil mumbles back around a giant bite of hamburger.

“I promise,” I answer as I hungrily dig into my burger too. With the first bite, my eyes practically roll back in my head. “Is this from the burger place down the street you told me about?”

“Yup,” I thought a sample might inspire you to make the trip with me.

I grab the remote and turn Buffy on for him while we eat and his face lights up. I love how happy he gets over the smallest things, which just makes me want to do more things for him. We tear through the huge amount of food quickly and just lay there for a bit, feeling too full to move. Saying nothing, he reaches over and takes my hand weaving our fingers together before briefly squeezing it tightly. 

“Do you think you’d be able to draw a picture of me?” he asks randomly.

“What kind of drawing?” 

He shrugs. “I’m not sure. Do you think I’d make a good anime character?”

“I can completely see you as an anime character,” I say, trying not to laugh but failing miserably. The laughter tears his attention away from Buffy and he raises his eyebrows at me. 

Before I can react, he pounces on me, knocking me back on the couch with him laying half on top of me. I giggle and try to squirm away, but he shifts his weight, pinning me down, immediately stopping my laughter. My eyes involuntarily flicker down to his lips and then back to his blue eyes. He leans in for a kiss and I completely melt underneath him. One kiss leads to another and the next thing I know we’re lazily making out on the couch. 

As his hand tugs at the hem of my shirt and I feel his hand on my bare skin, I instantly start getting nervous again about what his assumptions are about my invitation to spend the night. My breath catches and I pull my head back.

“I’m sorry,” Phil stammers, quickly removing his hand.

“No, it’s ok,” I say, putting my hand on his cheek. “I’m just kind of worried about something.”

“What’s wrong?” he says with a slight frown, sliding off of me and laying next to me instead. “Am I going to fast?”

“Well, that’s just it. I was just wondering what your expectations are for tonight. I hope I didn’t give you the impression by asking you to spend the night I actually wanted to….” I trail off.  
Phil looks confused for a second before understanding floods his face. 

“Oh! No, I didn’t think that at all!” 

“Oh good,” I say relieved, ducking my head down. “I mean, not that I don’t want to, but umm…you know. Just not yet. I’m not ready.”

He puts his fingers under my chin and lifts my face up to look at him. “Listen, I would never make you do anything you don’t want to do. We’ve got all the time in the world, ok? I’m not going anywhere. If you’re uncomfortable with anything, just say something, yeah?”

I nod, feeling a little embarrassed to be talking about it so openly.

“Phil?”

“Yes?”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m entirely comfortable with kissing,” I tell him with a grin.

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that,” he responds with a sigh and immediately pins me down again and starts kissing up my neck.

I have a sassy comeback, but it completely escapes my mind so I just settle for tilting my head to give him better access as he continues to nibble and kiss his way back up to my lips. I reach back and click off the lamp on the end table, leaving the room dark except for the glow from the tv. He’s being the perfect gentleman and sticking to just kissing, keeping his hands politely on top of my clothes. I almost hate myself for ever stopping him from touching me the way he was earlier as we pick up where we left off. I slide my hands down and grasp his hips, pulling them down against me as I push mine up into him. He moans, but then backs out of my grasp and partially sits up, taking some deep breaths.

He glances back down at me, noticing the concern in my eyes. 

“It’s ok,” he says with a small smile. “I just need a minute to….calm down a bit.”

“Oh,” I answer, surprised yet pleased that something I did had that kind of effect on him. “Do you need a cheesecake break?”

“Yes,” he answers, sounding dazed. “I think that may be a good idea.”

I hop up off the couch and go to the kitchen to grab forks and the cheesecake slices he brought earlier. When I get back into the living room, he’s looking a little more oriented. 

“Sorry about that,” he says sheepishly as I hand him his dessert. As we eat and talk, I reach over and pull a sketchbook and pencil off of the table. I scoot down to the end of the couch and start to make a rough sketch of Phil sitting with his legs folded up underneath him.

Phil glances over and does a double take. “Are you drawing me?”

“I am,” I say distractedly.

“Should I pose and smile?” he asks with a grin.

“Nope. Just sit there like you were for about 15 minutes.”

“I always wanted to be a model,” he jokes before settling back into the couch quietly as I draw.

When I finish the rough drawing, I just sit for a minute, letting my eyes trace over him. Everything about him seems too good to be true, from his playful personality and kindness to his perfect body and smooth pale skin. We’ve only known each other for a few days, but I already can’t imagine a life without him. I set down my notebook and stand up, holding out a hand to him.

“Come to bed?” I ask, loving the way the words sound as I say them.

He smiles and places his hand in mine as I pull him up off the couch and walk towards my bedroom, our fingers still entwined.


	6. Chapter 6

I wake up early because I’m boiling, and for a few groggy seconds, I can’t figure out why. I try to move but find that I’m being held down under the blankets by an arm and leg draped over my body. Smiling, I temporarily forget about being uncomfortable as I just take a few seconds to pause and look at Phil, sprawled out wearing only pajama pants and sleeping peacefully. I want to reach out to touch him and feel his soft skin under my hand again, but I resist, not wanting to wake him. As a compromise, I instead kick at the blanket I’m trapped under until I’m able to push it off of me, leaving nothing between myself and his limbs. He responds by murmuring something in his sleep and tugging me over closer to him. Contentment washes over me as I scoot in closer until we’re perfectly spooned together with his bare chest against my back.

I drift in and out of sleep for the next few hours, waking here and there by a strange combination of good and bad dreams. I dream about going back to the ocean again, but this time Phil is with me, walking hand in hand as the waves break and scatter sand and saltwater over our feet. It seems so palpable I can practically feel the warmth of the sun on my face. But then there’s another dream, and unfortunately, it seems just as real. In this one, the two of us are standing on the sidewalk in front of my apartment. I keep asking what’s wrong, but he refuses to answer. He turns and walks away from me, and as he goes, I notice that the letters that spell out my name over his head are now scrambled and in the wrong order. They keep shifting and flickering as if they are confused and forgot how to spell ‘Daniel Howell.' As the words struggle, they become dimmer and look like they’re drowning in fog. I try to chase him, but lose him in the crowd, never learning if my name is still there or not.

After this last dream, I wake up with a start, gasping for air. My brain struggles to hold onto little details and pieces of the dream, but they all eventually float away and out of my reach. I sit up, unintentionally dislodging Phil’s limbs that were wrapped around me and causing him to wake up also.

“Dan, are you ok?” he asks urgently, sitting up and looping his arms around me, pulling me close.

I just sit for a second with him holding me as I try to catch my breath. He starts soothingly rubbing my back with his hand and my breathing slows back down to a reasonable pace. Now if only I could get the picture of him walking away out of my head.

“I’m fine,” I answer softly. “Just had a bad dream.” I glance up at him and am relieved to see my name still floating serenely above him in the dim room. In a million years, I never thought I would ever be grateful to see those stupid floating words. He lays back down, pulling me with him. He puts an arm around me and I lay with my head on his chest, soothed by his steady heartbeat.

“It’s ok,” he whispers in my ear as he runs his fingers through my hair. “I’m right here.”

His comforting words are exactly what I need to hear. We lay like that for about 20 minutes before the last of my anxiety finally fades away. He still has his arm around me and is rubbing my back, causing me to practically melt into him.

“So,” he says dramatically once he’s sure I’m ok, “I thought we might go somewhere today.”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” I answer hesitantly.

“I’d never make you do anything that you’re uncomfortable with,” he says, pulling me a little closer. “But maybe just look at the pictures before you decide, yeah?”

I smile and nod, finding it impossible to say no to him.

He grabs his phone and leans towards me. Angling the screen so I can see better, he swipes through about a dozen pictures of a beautiful park. Filled with flowers and blooming trees, each photo looks like it could be a postcard.

“It’s a park not too far from here, maybe about five blocks,” he says, looking hopeful. “It’s usually not too crowded.”

My first instinct is to say no. Five blocks mean five busy crosswalks to go through, not to mention an undetermined amount of people between here and the park. And once we get there, what if he’s wrong and it’s packed with bicycle riders and mobs of screaming kids? But then I picture another scenario. I can see Phil and I walking hand and hand through the park, laying on a blanket, and even kissing under one of those cherry blossom trees that bloom this time of year. I always secretly loved all of those pink flowers. I bite my bottom lip as I waver back and forth.

“I think I want to try,” I finally answer. Seeing him perk up and smile convinces me I've made the right decision. I would do pretty much anything if it meant he would keep smiling at me like that.

“I’m really proud of you for trying,” he says softly by my ear right before he gives me a prolonged kiss on the cheek.

I contently try to snuggle back into him for another few hours of being lazy, but he’s already scrambling out of bed. I frown and make grabby hands at him so he’ll come back, but he just laughs and scoots just out of my reach.

“Come on, lazy! It’s already 10:30. Let’s grab some coffee and go.”

I groan and pull the blankets up so just my eyes are peering out. I watch him as he changes out of his pajama pants and into a pair of jeans and pulls a clean shirt on over his head. He turns around suddenly and catches me looking at him.

“Did you just watch me change clothes?” he asks playfully.

“No. Maybe. I don’t remember,” I respond as my cheeks turn pink.

“There’s a kiss waiting for you in the living room once you get up,” he says coyly over his shoulder as he walks out of the bedroom.

I lay there for a minute before I struggle out of bed and start searching for clothes, not wanting to miss an opportunity to get a kiss from Phil.

\--------------------------------------------

As we make our way into the park, his enthusiasm increases, pointing out things and tugging me along eagerly while he tells me random facts about all of the surrounding plants. There are a few people here and there, mostly joggers and bicycle riders, but he was right about it not being too crowded. We walk along the paths, our bodies close and bumping into each other, hand in hand. The further we go, the more I start to get a sense of déjà vu, but I’m not sure why. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been to a park, but I think it's safe to say it hasn’t been in the past seven months.

“Dan,” Phil says, tugging on my shirt with his free hand. “Are you listening to me?”

I feel sheepish when I realize that I hadn’t been a hundred percent listening and missed whatever question he just asked me.

“Sorry,” I say, embarrassed. “It’s just been a while since I’ve been out like this. I’m just distracted taking it all in.”

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, he asks his question again. “What’s your favorite kind of plant?”

“The one you gave me,” I immediately answer without even thinking, blushing when I realize how cheesy I sound. I immediately try to give another reply, but he stops and tugs me over so I’m facing him, and plants a long and lingering kiss on my lips. “I sort of have a thing for flowering trees too,” I prattle on, left surprised and breathless by his kiss. I lean in for another, but he stops me.

“Wait right here. Don’t move!” he says with a crooked grin.

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and watch curiously as he jogs off of the path and around some trees where I lose sight of him. Standing alone, I realize that I’ve got the biggest smile on my face. How can one person make me this happy? And amazingly enough, I seem to make him happy also.

All of a sudden, the feeling of déjà vu washes over me even stronger. I look around as I wait for Phil and my eyes settle on a wooden bench with a person who seems to be about my age sitting at one end. He has tangled hair and appears disheveled, the look of someone who hasn’t slept for a while or has something heavily weighing on them. As I’m watching him, he hunches over with his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands. I don’t know why, but there is something about him that is holding my attention, making it impossible for me to look away. The way he’s sitting causes something in my memory to snap and I abruptly remember that I have been here before. I quickly do the math in my head. Seven months ago to the day it was me sitting on that wooden bench. This is the park I went to that first day I started seeing the floating words. I remember sitting there, panic-stricken and out of my mind, staring at the people as they walked by with ominous floating words over their heads. I frown a little bit at the painful recollection of those first few terrifying days.

Part of me wants to go over to him and I can’t explain why. There’s absolutely no reason for me to want to walk up to a stranger in a park, but there’s something about his expression that’s pulling at me. I continue to study him and find my eyes working their way to the space above his head. The letters are wavering and fuzzy, but I can still read them plain as day.

“I see words.”

My breath catches in my throat and I look around frantically for Phil, rapidly feeling panic set in as my brain loudly demands that I run back home. Where is he? I feel like I’ve just fallen over a cliff and am hurtling towards the rocks at the bottom. I need him to be here!

In a few seconds, he reappears at exactly at the same spot where he walked off of the path. He’s holding something in his hand as he walks towards me, but that’s not what catches my attention. Instead of my panic being alleviated by the sight of him, my heart seizes and I feel my hands start to shake. Above his head, the letters that spell out my name are also flickering and going in and out of focus, similar to the boy’s, but exactly like in my nightmare this morning. I blink my eyes hard a few times, staring at the shimmering words above his head as they tremble and flicker, going from solid to transparent and back again. I try to act normal and hide the terror bubbling up inside of me as he gets closer with each step.

When he’s in front of me, he stands close enough that the only thing I can see are those blue eyes. My whirling brain slows down despite the alarms going off in my head as I feel him take my hand and put something in it. I tear my eyes away from his to look down and see that he has given me a small sprig covered in tiny pink flowers that he must’ve gotten from a cherry blossom tree. It’s such a simple gesture, but it means more to me than if he would have shown up with a vase of a dozen red roses. I look back up at him and my heart melts when I see the hopeful look on his face. I fling my arms around him and crush my body into his, knocking him a little off balance. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold on to him for dear life, terrified that if I let go, he will walk away and never come back just as he did in that horrible dream. When he regains his footing, he slips his arms around me and buries his face into my neck. I cling to him, desperate and scared.

When I finally do pull back, I reach out and gently brush some pink petals out of his hair that must have fallen when he was under the tree getting my flowers. As I’m doing so, I try to nonchalantly as possible look up a little higher to see the status of the words floating above him, bracing myself for what I might see.

The letters are still fluctuating and struggling to remain readable, fluttering like they are nothing more permanent than Fall leaves blown in the breeze. With one final quiver, they disappear as if blown out like a candle. I start to panic. Why is my name gone? I don’t understand what’s happening. What does this mean?

“Are you ok?” he asks with concern in his voice as he looks at me. “Is your anxiety really bad right now?”

“No…I’m…I’ll be fine,” I lie, scared to take my hands off of him.

“Oh!” he says suddenly, looking grief stricken. “I shouldn’t have just left you here by yourself like that! I’m so sorry, Dan. I know this is a big step for you and I should never have just walked away!” When I don’t reply, he folds me lovingly into his arms again, rubbing my back with one of his hands as he murmurs reassuring words into my ear.

I look over his shoulder for the boy on the bench, but he’s gone. The bench is empty. As Phil soothes me, I idly wonder if he was even there to begin with. Maybe the stress of being so far from home is making me see things. I glance around, but he’s nowhere to be found. Why are things just disappearing? First the boy, and now my name above Phil’s head. I don’t understand what’s happening.

“Do you want to sit down for a minute? There’s a bench over there.”

“No!” I practically shout. “I mean, let’s maybe walk a little bit more?” I add in what I hope is a normal volume.

“Are you sure?” he says while scrutinizing me. “It’s not too much? I really am sorry. I just wasn’t thinking!”

“Maybe just hold my hand while we walk, yeah?”

“Of course!” he answers, instantly weaving our fingers together again. He lifts our entwined hands up and kisses the back of mine before we keep moving along the path, hand in hand as I hold my cherry blossoms.

At first, I keep my eyes locked onto the path, trying to calm my frayed nerves. I keep running the events of the past 20 minutes through my mind, trying to analyze and make sense out of them, but come up blank. I can’t explain any of it. The best thing to do would be to just put it behind me and continue with our day. I’m walking through the park with the person who could be my soul mate and I’m not going to let my overactive brain spoil it.

“I want to show you something,” he says, tugging me off of the main path and onto a little trail made of pebbles that goes around a medium sized pond.

I follow and, little by little, start glancing up at my surroundings instead of staring at the ground. Everything here looks like it’s out of a storybook. Concrete paths have given way to Asian rock gardens and oak trees have been replaced by Japanese Maples. Instead of picnic shelters, there are a few small pagodas with benches in them facing the pond.

“This is beautiful,” I say in awe. “I had no idea this part of the park even existed.”

“It’s new. They just added the Japanese garden about two months ago. Here, this is one of the things I wanted to show you!”

He stops and directs my attention to the edge of the lake, which is swarming with giant koi fish. I stare in amazement at the orange, black, and pearl colored fish, swirling and bumping into each other as they swim. I can’t tear my eyes away, completely mesmerized by the colors and movement. Next to me, Phil hands me a package of crackers that he had hidden in his jacket pocket.

“Go on,” he says with a smile. “Feed them.”

I excitedly rip open the package and start dropping pieces of cracker into the water. The peaceful fish suddenly and frantically fight over the food. We stand there together, laughing and taking turns tossing in the crackers until the package is empty. Still giggling, I look up at him and he’s staring at me with an unsure look on his face and tears in his eyes.

“Phil?” I say, worried. “What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

“No! Not at all. It’s what I did.” He takes my hand and leads me down the pebble path and away from the fish. “Dan, I still feel so sorry for leaving you standing there by yourself. When I came back, you looked absolutely terrified and it was all my fault!”

“It’s not your fault! That’s not why I was scared,” I blurt out. “I thought…I thought I saw something,” I add hesitantly. I have to tell him what’s going on. I’m unraveling in front of him and he thinks it’s his fault. Running what I am going to say through my head, it occurs to me exactly just how outrageous it all sounds. I see words floating above people that may or may not be true. And while you were gone getting me flowers, I saw a guy sitting on the same bench I sat on seven months ago and I think he may be able to see words too. Or he may not exist at all. In fact, until a few minutes ago, you had my name floating over your head.

“What was it you thought you saw?” he asks, tilting his head in confusion.

“Umm. Well….,” I say slowly, rethinking my attempted confession.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it doesn’t change the fact that I still shouldn’t have just run off and left.” he says with a determined look on his face. “There’s one other thing I want to show you. Would you like to go see it?”

“Ok,” I say hesitantly.

Before I can say anything else, he covers my eyes with one of his hands and guides me off of the path, pushing me along with his other hand on my lower back.

“Wait! What are you doing?” I say through laughter while trying not to fall.

“I want you to be surprised,” he answers cheerfully as he carefully leads me to a grassy area and down a steep hill.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“Almost,” he answers with his mouth close to my ear, his voice giving me shivers.

The ground levels off and I can smell something sweet in the air and feel shade on my face.

“Are you ready?” he asks excitedly.

“Yes!”

“Are you sure?”

“Phil.”

“Ok, ok. You can look.”

He pulls his hand back from my eyes and I squint and blink at the bright daylight. I look around, my mouth falling open in surprise. I take a few tentative steps forward, peering at my surroundings in awe. We’re standing underneath three giant cherry blossom trees that are in full bloom. They are so big and close enough together that the ends of their branches overlap and make an enormous canopy of flowers. In almost every direction, we are surrounded by pink blossoms. A breeze blows through and a scattering of tiny pink petals flutter down like snowflakes, landing on our clothes and in our hair.

“It’s not as glamorous as the potted plant, but you said your second favorite was a flowering tree. So here are three of them,” he says, taking a few steps after me as I slowly walk, expectantly waiting for me to say something. “It’s where I got the flowers I gave you.”

To my left, I hear a loud screech and two small children go racing by us, not even noticing that we’re there. A few seconds later, a frazzled woman, moving much slower, chases after them. I cock my head to the side and squint after them.

There are no words above their heads.

I turn in circles under the trees, my eyes wildly seeking out more people. I spot a couple walking on the sidewalk and stare at them. No words. Beyond them, two boys are throwing a Frisbee. No words. My heart is pounding. Is it over?

“Dan?”

In my amazement at the turn of events, I had almost forgotten that I hadn’t said anything to Phil since we’ve gotten here.

“I love it,” I say immediately, emotion filling my words. “Everything. This day, the fish, these trees. I just…I just don’t even know what to say.” I rush over to him and fiercely press our lips together. He hums his approval and pulls my body flush against his. We kiss and hold each other until much to my displeasure, he takes a step backward.

“Dan,” he says with flushed cheeks as he tries not to grin. “We’re in public!” I look down and realize that at some point my hands had made their way under his shirt and were trying to pull it off.

“Sorry,” I mutter, blushing and pulling my hands away.

I lay down flat on my back underneath the trees on the blanket of grass and petals and Phil quickly follows and does the same. We lay there in silence, holding hands and staring straight up into branches and blossoms that are so thick we can only catch glimpses of the blue sky between them. We stay motionless as pink petals float down and land on us.

“Dan, do you think we’re supposed to be here?” he asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Under these trees?”

“No, I mean us. You and I. I know that’s a really sappy thing to ask, but I just can’t stop thinking that this is supposed to be happening.”

“You mean like fate?”

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that.”

I’ve never believed in destiny so my first instinct is to say no, but as I think back not only to the past week with Phil but also over the past seven months, I hesitate.

When I don’t answer right away, he continues. “I know that you’ve been struggling this year. I don’t know all of the details, but these bad things that happened in your life led you to live across the street from the coffee shop. And if at least some of these difficult things hadn’t still been going on, you never would have made that place your first step in healing. Dan, I really believe we were supposed to meet in that shop. There are too many coincidences to not at least consider that possibility.”

If only he knew how much more there is to the story.

I glance over at him and he’s looking earnestly at me, still waiting for my response.

“I’m not sure, but I would love to think that is what’s happening,” I finally answer. I expect him to ask me a barrage of additional questions, but the smile and content look on his face lets me know he is happy with my answer.

It’s human nature to try to put meaning behind things they don’t understand, death, a lost job, natural disasters. We all want to believe that everything, good and bad, happens for a reason, even though in my observation, it rarely does. When I started seeing the words and my life began falling apart, I was desperate to find out why this was happening to me. I thought that maybe if I could just understand the reasons behind it, I could find the peace of mind that I so badly needed. Is it possible the reason is that I was supposed to meet Phil?

I looked at seeing the words as a curse, but now, it seems as if they were, in fact, a blessing. If the words hadn’t appeared, I never would have met Phil. If my name floating over his head hadn’t been there, I never would have been bold enough to pursue him. I am laying under these beautiful trees with the with a man I’m quickly falling in love with because of those words. I remember sitting alone on that bench in this park seven months ago, feeling like it was the end of the world. Today with him, however, it feels like the beginning instead.

He’s right about there being too many factors to be just a coincidence.

So if all of this happened so we would meet, why did the words suddenly leave? I think back to that terrifying moment when my name disappeared from above his head. He had just come back from picking the cherry blossoms when it happened. Did the floating words fulfill their purpose and then leave because they weren’t needed anymore?

I wish now I had followed my instinct and talked to the person on the bench. Not only would I know if he’s real or not, but if he is, I could have at least given him some reassurance about what he’s going through. I need to know when he started seeing the words.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” Phil says, still gazing up at the trees.

“I was just thinking. Do you think you can prove something is fate?”

“That depends on what you mean by ‘prove.’ If you mean like with a mathematical equation or a scientific experiment, no. A lot of little things add up and the result is something that could only be explained as being fate. Because it requires faith, it's something you experience, not something you figure out,” he answers, squeezing my hand. “It’s like love.”

We fall back into another comfortable silence as the petals continue to drift down on us and the ambient park noise lulls us into a state between awake and asleep.

“Now what are you thinking about?” he asks again.

“I was thinking that I believe in both of those things. Fate and love.”

I feel him shift next to me and move closer. His tall body curls up against mine and he wordlessly lays his head on my chest.

\-----------------------------

I wake up to Phil planting little kisses down my neck.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he says softly

I look around disoriented before I quickly remember where we are.

“You were out for about 20 minutes. You looked so peaceful I thought I’d just let you nap.”

I sit up and stretch, which results in a shower of tiny pink petals. Phil stands and the petals flutter off of him like snow. He holds his hand out and when I take it, he tugs me up so I’m standing next to him.

“I’m starving,” I yawn. “Let’s go find something to eat.”

“That’s an excellent idea. I’m hungry too.”

We walk towards the park entrance discussing our food options when out of the corner of my eye, I spot the boy I saw earlier on the bench, now only about 20 feet away from us. I blink hard a few times to make sure I’m not seeing things, but he is very real and is now sitting next to the pond. My heart speeds up and I take a deep breath.

“Phil, hold on for a second. I’ll be right back,” I say hurriedly. I jog over to him in what I hope is a non-threatening way.

When I kneel down next to him, he flinches.

“Hi, my name is Dan. I saw you earlier and I was just wondering if you’re ok?” I ask. “You look like you’re really upset.”

“No. Actually, I’m not ok. I think I’m going crazy,” he says through fresh tears.

“I know it feels that way, but you’re not,” I say, putting my hand on his shoulder.

“What do you know?” he answers, jerking his shoulder away.

“Because I saw them too. I know about the floating words.”

His eyes open wide as if he’s trying to decide if he believes me.

“You see them too?” he asks incredulously.

“I used to.”

“Then how do I make them stop? Tell me how to make them go away!” he pleads, shuffling a little bit closer.

“You can’t make them go away. You have to wait.”

“Wait?” he says in horror. “What do you mean? I can’t do anything to make them leave?”

I know I don’t have much time, so I ignore his question. “When did you start seeing them?” I ask insistently.

“This morning,” he answers quickly.

“What time?”

“A-around 10 am,” he stutters. “Why?”

I think back quickly to this morning. What was I doing at 10:00? Think, think, think! The dream. That’s when I had the dream that my name was disappearing from above Phil’s head. All of the floating words I saw after that point were blurry and lighter. Both understanding and relief flood my body. The ability to see the words left me and went to him. That’s the last piece of the puzzle.

Phil was right. All of the little things add up.

“You’re going to be ok. I promise. Not only are you going to be fine, but something amazing is going to happen to you.”

“But I don’t understand,” he pleads. “Why is this happening?”

“The words are going to lead you to where you’re supposed to be. And when they do, you’re going to understand everything.”

I glance over my shoulder and see Phil looking at us peculiarly and I know I have to hurry before he comes over here.

“It’s going to be scary for a while, but it will all be worth it. I know this sounds crazy, but please believe me, ok? There is a reason behind it.”

He says nothing and just stares into my eyes for a few seconds before he finally nods.

I stand back up and jog back over to Phil.

“Do you know him?” Phil asks curiously.

“Not really. I saw him earlier and he was alone and looked really upset. I didn’t say anything to him and sort of regretted it. I wanted to see if he was ok.”

“That was really sweet of you,” he says almost proudly as he leans over and kisses my cheek. “What did you tell him?”

“I promised him that things would get better.”

“That’s a pretty big promise.”

“That’s where the faith part comes in I suppose.”

“So now what?” Phil asks as we reach the entrance to the park.  
“Anything,” I answer, grinning at him. “It’s your choice.”

As we stand on the corner waiting at the crosswalk, I give up on covert glances and, feeling brave, just blatantly stare at him, not caring about the people around us. Everything about Phil seems like a work of art. His raven hair shines in the sun as he unconsciously pushes his fringe back off of his forehead. The blue of his eyes is a hue that exists only somewhere between the color of the sky and a robin’s egg. His skin is soft and pale and absolutely perfect. All of that plus being the sweetest most caring person I’ve ever met. I pull on his hand a little to get his attention, and when he turns my way, I yank him towards me and into a deep kiss. He peeks around us and his cheeks turn pink.

“What’s gotten into you today?” he happily murmurs in my ear. “Something’s changed since this morning.”

“Because I know I’m going to be ok,” I answer, looking into his eyes before I pull him against me again, continuing the kiss which he promptly melts into. As we stand there with our arms wrapped around each other, the crowd brushes past as they make their way across the street with the light. The city sounds buzz around us, a cacophony of cars and people, and even in the midst of the chaos of life, I know now that fate has handed us an unavoidable destination in our journey, and we’re exactly where we need to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who gave kudos, left comments, and made it all the way to the end! You inspired me to finish a story I didn't know if I had the ability to tell and just had a vague idea of where I wanted it to go!
> 
> I'm finishing up the last few chapters of '24 Hours' and am brainstorming for ideas for my next writing project. If anyone has a suggestion for a story they'd love to read, leave a comment and let me know!


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